


Anger and Anxiety (ON HIATUS FOR AN INDEFINITE TIME PERIOD)

by Nepotato



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Anger Management, Anxiety, High School, Highschool AU, M/M, Non-Supernatural AU, Teenwolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nepotato/pseuds/Nepotato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-supernatural Teen Wolf AU. Stiles is having a hard time, he's anxious, he's pretty sure he's got ADHD, he's confused, and his best friend is becoming popular, which is making him feel left behind. One day, Stiles accidentally douses some guy in pieces of apple. This guy, Derek Hale, also has problems. When they start running into each other all over, they realise that sometimes, people are more than they seem to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> This is the prologue to a fanfic I might write. Depends on how well it's received. Since it went so well with my other short Sterek fic, I thought I might try to do something longer. (What the hell it got translated into russian how fucking awesome is that?! It's called Just a Distraction, if you're interested) Please leave feedback on whether or not I should continue.
> 
> Thanks for checking it out,
> 
> xoxo Chris

Non-supernatural AU

Getting rid of his anxiety wasn't easy. Stiles had always been hyper, and though he had never seen a doctor about it, he was pretty sure he might have ADHD. And ever since Scott started being all amazing on the lacrosse team, and basically changing the center of every girl in the schools gravity to himself, Stiles had been getting worse. His grades were falling, he had trouble sleeping, and he was almost sure that he had had a hallucination the day before, which may or may not have involved a pink bunny. 

On top of constantly worrying that his best friend was going to realise how much of a geek he was and cut all ties, Stiles had stumbled onto his dads bills. Not good. Getting a job had been pretty much impossible, so the only thing Stiles could do was worry. Which, of course, wasn't super healthy. He had even googled the effects of anxiety. Bad idea. That had only added to his pile of shit to drag around all day, weighing him down and slumping his shoulders as if it was a physical thing. 

Turning the the magic of the internet once again, Stiles had tried to find some way to make himself calm down and stop thinking of everything that could go wrong at anytime, all the time. Most of the websites he found suggested going to a therapist. That, however, was not an option, since Stiles and his dad were already living paycheck to paycheck. 

Other options included talking to someone (as if Stiles would do that), breathing exercises (tried that), yoga (haha, in your dreams), eating healthier (no pizza?), and a bunch of other crap that Stiles was pretty sure was 100% authentic bullshit. Slowly, worry turned into despair, which in turn turned into anger. Why did he have to deal with all this shit?!

That anger was what had landed him here, a baseball bat gripped in his hand. The orchard was old, so old that other trees had invaded the space, turning it into something of a half-wood, not really dense enough to be a legitimate forest. Ruins of an old, small farmhouse sat on the edge of the trees, doors and windows gone, all the wood from the cottage rotted. If you could even call it a cottage. It was more like a shed. 

The scene was idyllic, really. Autumn had turned the trees gold, red, orange, yellow. Stiles grimly imagined just how many white girls had been here to do photoshoots. Judging by the abandoned flower crown and beer bottles that were scattered around, at least a few. But Stiles wasn’t here for the view, or to add some fall magic to his Instagram page. No, he was here for some first class therapy.

Striding forward, bat held ready over his shoulder, the young man approached one of the apple trees. The fallen leaves crunched under his feet, but there was a few seconds of silence as he stood still, searching for his first victim. 

There, a few feet ahead of him, hung the perfect apple. Originally green, but tanned red by the sun, it shone, basically calling to Stiles. A wide, confident smile spread across his lips. It wasn’t an expression that crossed his face often. A step. A swing. Homerun. 

The baseball bat hit the apple perfectly, bits of apple and juice spraying everywhere. The sound of the apple exploding, kafroosh, was mixed with the sound of Stiles’ laughter. Now this was therapy. For about ten minutes, Stiles ran around the orchard, smashing apples left and right, his glee boundless and innocent. Nothing is more hilarious and freeing than destroying things.

Suddenly though, his childish antics were interrupted by the sound of something that sounded suspiciously like a growl. Lowering the bat, Stiles slowly turned around, a nervous smile on his face. It wasn’t a dog, like he had expected. Instead, it was a teenage boy, about the same age as Stiles. Brown hair so dark it was almost black, eyes brown, brow furrowed, tight t-shirt with a flannel shirt pulled over it, and mouth pulled into a snarl, the guy looked extremely furious. Stiles eyes travelled unbidden up and down his body, which, coincidentally, was absolutely covered in bits of apple. Bits of apple that Stiles had unwittingly fired at him in his quest to exterminate all apples.

“What. The. Hell. Is. Your. Fucking. Problem?” The dude said, taking deep breaths between each word. It looked like he was trying very hard not to either cry, scream, or pummel Stiles to death. Stiles, meanwhile, was completely blank on what to do. “It, um, helps me get rid of my anxiety?” He answered, although it sounded more like a question. That was obviously not the answer the other boy was expecting. His angry expression morphed into one of complete confusion, and for just a second, an image of a baffled puppy popped into Stiles head. The similarities were comically uncanny. 

But all humor vanished from Stiles as the guy lunged forward, inches from Stiles, and ripped the bat out of his hand. The only thought that flew through Stiles’ head, besides holy shit I’m going to die, was wow, he’s pretty tall and, erm, hot. A second later and the guy was back in his original spot, still angry, still confused, still covered in mutilated fruit, but now armed with a baseball bat. 

“Please be careful with that, it’s my dads from high school.” Wow Stiles, great thinking. Ask him not to hurt the bat, not you. Real smart. The guy didn’t respond, only repositioned the bat so he was holding it with his legs, and started taking off his shirt. Stiles’ eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline as he raised them. “Geez, Casanova, shouldn’t you wait until we’ve at least had dinner first.” He muttered, trying not to stare as the guy’s t-shirt slid up a few inches, revealing, of course, a perfect sixpack as he took off his flannel shirt. Throwing the shirt onto the ground and grabbing the bat again, the dude glared at Stiles, his long lashes almost touching each other as his eyes narrowed. 

“I want to be able to move freely.” He grunted. Scared of meeting his eyes, Stiles looked at the guys arm, muscles rippling as he swung the bat around. Why was it the hot guys always wanted to beat him up? Or, you know, would be hot if I was a girl. Or gay. Which I’m totally not oh my god Stiles stop checking out his biceps when he’s about to smash your head in with your own baseball bat. 

“So. You ready?” The guy said, smiling slightly. Stiles swallowed, closing his eyes tightly. Hopefully he’d be knocked unconscious quickly.


	2. Prologue part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second and last part of the prologue, hope it's okay. I'm going to England this week, so I probably won't post anything for at least a week.

The sounds of the forest were turned up to max. It was as if every bird was screaming its heart as much as its little body could bear before it took its seasonal flight. The trees were gossiping at full speed, branches whispering in the wind, wanting to be heard as much as possible before the leaves were all gone. The orchard was too secluded for any sounds of traffic to reach it, but once in a while a laugh or shout could be heard, probably originating from the pathways. The forest was a very popular outing place, but for some reason the orchard seemed reserved only for teenagers. And Stiles had a knack for visiting when no one else was around.

Eyes closed, body shaking, Stiles waited for the pain. He decided right away that he wouldn't beg, wouldn't call out for his dead mother, would show as little fear as possible. But the hit never came. Instead, the sound of an apple exploding interrupted the silence. Stiles' eyes shot open in surprise, just quickly enough to see the apple sauce fly right at him. "You didn't seriously think I was going to beat you up, did you?" The brunette said. Stiles was to busy wiping fruit off of his sweater to notice the smirk that was directed at him. 

Nor did he see when the bat thief slid his chocolate eyes up and down him, studying, then hurriedly looking away when Stiles gazed up at him again. "Well how the hell would I know? You totally look like someone who would beat up some innocent guy for-" "You use your hands a lot when you talk." He interrupted Stiles, imitating the gestures, bat swinging wildly around in his hand. Stiles' animated face went blank. "Thank you, Mr. Grumpy... Wolf? . I'm aware." Stiles muttered, trying to cover his horribly awkward insult by bathing his voice in sarcasm. 

"Wolf?" Mr. Grumpy Wolf answered, bemused. Stiles studied him critically, eyes lingering maybe a little too long on his face. "Well, look at you. You're like... Big... And, um, hairy. And scary?" The last sentence was whispered in shame. Mr. GW obviously heard it though, since he smirked in satisfaction. "See! Even your teeth are, like, pointy vampire fangs." Exclaimed Stiles. He demonstrated the pointy teeth with his index fingers, putting them up by his mouth. Mr.GW chuckled, answering: 

"That's ridiculous. No, actually, you're ridiculous." Huffing, Stiles crossed his arms. A falling leaf landed on his shoulder, matching the deep red color of his hoodie. "Not as ridiculous as how bad you are at apple smash." Stiles shot back. Mr. GW's eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, face inches from Stiles. He was taller than Stiles, and the way he looked down on him was rather intimidating. Shaping each of his words carefully, he gently bumped Stiles on the leg with the bat. 

"Is that a challenge?" Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine at the quiet forcefullness and anticipation behind the words. Now was the time to rise to Mr. GW's intimidation game, to show him that Stiles was just as dangerous. "Um, you bet." He responded awkwardly, voice oddly chirpy. Goddammit Stiles. Staying smooth was just so hard when Mr. GW was so close. If Stiles had been brave enough, he could have leaned forward just a tiny bit, maybe stood a little bit on his toes, and just- no no no no, not going there.

Mr. GW stepped back, turned around, swung the bat, killed an innocent apple, turned back to Stiles, and declared, in complete seriousness; "I, Derek Hale, accept this challenge!", all in one movement. Unsure how to react, Stiles just nodded, his expression a mix of confusion, amusement and embarrassment. Mr. GW, or Derek, might act all high and mighty, but Stiles admitted with glee that that had been rather lame. The fact that this big, imposing teenager could be silly made him seem a whole lot more approchable.

The rest of the day was spent hurling apples at one another, playing baseball, which was pretty hard when the ball exploded when you hit it, and generally acting like complete dorks. 

The forest was starting to darken when Derek turned to Stiles. His hair was messy and filled with leaves, quite a contrast to how styled and elaborate it had been just a few hours before. His T-shirt, which had previously been white, was now smeared with dirt and was now more of a beige with brown spots. Coffee coloured eyes watched Stiles as he chomped down an apple. "What is it?" He asked, a piece of fruit falling out of his mouth, juice dribbling down his chin. He smiled sheepishly at Derek, who huffed in amusement. "I have no idea what you just said." Stiles started chewing furiously in response, trying to empty his mouth so he could talk.

But chewing with too much food in your mouth is notorious for being difficult, and more juice was dripping from his chin onto his shirt. Derek sighed in mock disappointment, his expression was playful as he stepped right up to Stiles for the third time that day. And again, the reaction Stiles felt was immediate. His heart beat faster, his hands felt sweaty, and he almost froze. This time though, something was different. After spending a few hours with Derek Hale, Stiles had realized that there was nothing to be afraid of about him. But then, why was his heart hammering in his chest, why did he want to step closer and close the tiny gap between them? 

No answer came to him, and Stiles felt himself go into hyperdrive as Derek grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, and used it to gently dab away the liquid around Stiles mouth. "I get it." Derek said quietly, seriously. Wait, what? Stiles didn't move, hands chained to his sides. It seemed as if he had been trapped in carbonite. "You've had a hard life." Derek continued, still softly wiping Stiles' face. But how could he know that? Stiles wondered. Did someone tell him about how his mom died, how he had spent a week in Eichen House, or how his dad always worked late? How could Derek, someone Stiles had just met, understand, when no one else did? 

"People bullying you for not being able to eat properly... Not wanting to be your friend because you drool all over yourself... I'm so sorry Stiles." Derek's mask broke, and he gave a bark of laughter. The spell on Stiles broke, and he pushed Derek hard. "Asshole." He muttered, but Derek just continued laughing. Stiles' push had made him off balanced though, and for a second, it looked like he was lying in the air. Then gravity caught him, and he fell back, landing hard on his ass. That didn't deter him, and he kept laughing. "Fuck you. Actually, no, but no one actually wants to fuck such a huge dickwad." Stiles knew he had lost, and even though it had been a joke, it kind of stung. Not because of the eating bit, but because for a few seconds he had believed that someone might actually know what he was going through. 

"Yeah whatever, I'm going home, wolfboy." Trying to retain what little was left of his dignity, Stiles grabbed the baseball bat from the tree it was leaning against, shot one last look at Derek, who wasn't laughing quite as much now but still had a goofy smile on his face, turned around, and started the walk home. Just before he left the orchard, he heard a sound coming from a little ways behind him. Laughing, he kept walking, Derek's howl accompanying him until it faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, hope you liked it! If you did, leaving kudos and comments really helps me feel inspired to write more. See ya soon,
> 
> Xoxo Chris

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo friends,  
> On my tumble nepotato, I'll be posting updates on what I'm writing, also I'll be accepting submissions for short scenes and the like, any fandom mostly. So follow me, if you would be so kind.
> 
> Xoxo Chris


End file.
